


I won’t be made a fool of; don’t call this love

by linzackles



Series: There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin [2]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: ! not ! for ! sensitive ! souls !, Angst, F/M, The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you, a lot of toxic that will probably hurt somebody, jealous Rio, ye been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linzackles/pseuds/linzackles
Summary: “I fell for a guy. A really bad guy. And we broke each other’s hearts. I should’ve seen it coming, but I didn’t. And then he left, and I thought I’d be fine if I could just find a way to replace him.”ORWhat happens when two people hate each other but want to be with each other? Beth doesn’t know. She doesn’t know, and she just wishes she didn’t have to find out.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Series: There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652176
Comments: 176
Kudos: 363





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my loves. How are we all feeling? Raw; wounded? Would you like to feel worse?
> 
> Bahahahahaha, I'm kidding. I'm in agony, too. (Come talk to me on my Tumblr, mrslackles) But writing is my way of coping, so here we are. Thank you so much for showing interest in this being a series! I honestly don't exactly know where it's going, but I'm curious to find out with you guys for as long as you're interested :) 
> 
> Please do note the tags, but I can promise you nothing worse will happen here than has already happened on the show 😬

“Elizabeth!”

Beth twists with a deep frown – there’s only one person who calls her Elizabeth, and it’s not a woman.

And then – oh god. Her heart skips a beat.

Chana.

She’s bounding towards her in the store, in similar but maybe slightly sexier athleisure than the first time she’d seen her.

“You’re Rio’s colleague, right? I never forget a face,” she smiles happily.

Beth has always been marvelled by peppy women. The ability to always seem joyful and full of life – like life isn’t a confusing, volatile mess that requires constant readjustment and renegotiation. Perpetual bargaining to keep your soul.

“Beth,” she corrects, trying and failing to match the other woman’s energy. “And… yes.”

She’s very confused. Had Rio not mentioned exactly who he’d been seeing? Had Chana not asked? Had he been protecting Beth? Why?

It’s been just over a month since he’d left and she still has so many questions. So much regret.

But the ‘colleague’ part isn’t a lie.

She’d expected Rio to shut everything down in Detroit, but he hadn’t. (And now she wonders – had that been for her, too?) She’d gone back to dealing with Demon, who is even less forthcoming than his boss, meaning she has no hint of an idea where the hell Rio is. He could be in California or Cairo.

“It’s nice seeing you again. Hey, would you mind giving me a hand?”

Taking her in properly for the first time, Beth realises that the woman’s arms are overloaded with groceries.

“Thought I didn’t need a basket,” she rolls her eyes at herself good-naturedly.

“Um, sure.”

God, it’s the least she can do.

Although, also – the most awkward. They’re about halfway to the cash registers, though, so Beth bites the bullet and takes half of Chana’s load.

“I, um, heard you two broke up.”

What else is there for them to talk about?

And, besides, she still needs to figure out what exactly Rio had told Chana about her.

“Oh, yeah,” she shrugs.

Beth frowns. “You, uh, don’t seem that upset...”

“Well, it’s been a month, it wasn’t that gnarly and, honestly, I kind of knew it was never going to work out.” She laughs disparagingly at herself: “But every good girl wants a bad boy, right?”

“Right,” she smiles back tightly.

She thanks the heavens and all its stars that they’ve made it into a line and it isn’t too long.

“How was the office without him?”

Right. Because they’re ‘architects’.

“…Strange,” she answers honestly.

The first few days had been heartbreaking. She’d kept expecting him to pop up and admit he hadn’t been able to leave. Or even just appear to assign her a job. But nothing. Not a phone call, not a trace of him.

It had hurt for so long and then it had morphed into something different: resentment. Confusion. How could he just have walked away like that?

Or, well – driven away. He’d been there that night, outside her house. Why? Why had he just parked outside and then left?

Had nothing she’d said meant anything to him?

But then she’d remembered the business plans he’d spoken about and it had been some sort of salve. Imagining him out there putting his head down and working, the same way she’d thrown herself into her baking and crafts. Had started a mini business using the profits from the money they’re washing. It’s not much, barely turning a profit, but it keeps her busy. Some nights her fingers ache and almost all nights her feet ache, but it’s worth it not to think about him.

At least until she’s alone in bed and she remembers everything she’d admitted to him and how it still hadn’t been enough.

Remembers—

_I can’t think straight when I’m wit’ you._

_You’re in my fuckin head!_

The person in front of them finishes their purchase and they start putting her groceries on the belt.

“Well, at least he’s back now,” Chana smiles helpfully.

And she speaks to the cashier, nodding and replying that, yes, she’d brought her own bag.

But Beth stands frozen; unmoving and unbreathing.

…He’s back?

* * *

“Is he here?” she demands, throwing open the door to the warehouse.

Demon’s alone, as he usually is during the day, and he looks up with a frown.

“What’s that?”

“I _said_ is he here?” she growls.

His jaw works, shifting back and forth. Watching her with his unknowable eyes. Silent but knowing, just like always. Normally it unsettles her; right now she’s too goddamn mad.

And maybe that’s what he sees in her eyes – fury – that makes him slowly stand then sigh and head to a door, placing a firm knock on it.

“Boss.”

His deep voice echoes around the warehouse and Beth holds her breath, not able to believe it.

No. Demon’s talking to someone else; Chana had been confused.

But then Rio steps out, instantly meeting her eyes.

And she can’t breathe, she can’t breathe.

Till she can.

“Screw you.”

She twists around and barrels out of the warehouse, feeling everything rise up inside her. Every night she’d cried and every morning she’d felt empty. Every time she’d come so close to calling.

It all balls up and threatens to explode, the fuse lit with wrath.

She’s halfway to her car when she hears the door close behind her and footsteps.

“Elizabeth.”

She doesn’t want to come to a stop – but she can’t help it, twisting on the spot.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare call me that.”

He stares back at her and her lip trembles as she takes him in. He’s wearing a dark blue blazer over a black t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up.

God, he looks amazing.

It makes her angrier.

“You made me tell you and I did. I was honest, I _begged_ you not to leave, and you still did. And then you came back and the first person you went to was _her_?”

She sees the questions pass through his eyes – he knows who she means, but not how she could possibly have been in contact with her.

She’s not going to explain it.

She turns back around and keeps going forward; can no longer contain the tears as she unlocks the minivan.

She’s reaching for the handle when suddenly she’s being spun. Her back hits the car and she gasps.

He’s looking at her, jaw hard and eyes filled with a challenge, as if daring her to defy him any more.

She lifts her chin, not caring; not caring that there are tears littered across her face.

“Fuck you.”

His lips crash into hers and she whimpers, hating herself for how much the taste of him still makes her want to forget everything.

But she tries pushing him away, shoving at his shoulder, and he only drives his body further into hers, sandwiching her between him and the car.

She moans, hand going from his shoulder to his neck as her mouth opens for him. He moans too, hand going to her thigh to pull it up over his hip, and she can barely breathe, never mind think about what the hell they’re doing.

It just feels right, him against her, his tongue in her mouth, and she just knows neither of them can stop.

But then he does, pulling away and regarding her, eyes nearly black with lust.

Then he grabs her hand and starts tugging her back to the warehouse, and the truth is, he doesn’t have to. She’d go anyway.

Her body’s trembling with need for him and it’s so goddamn familiar, the mindlessness. The purity of knowing nothing but that she can no longer breathe without him inside her.

They’re back inside in seconds and Rio jerks his chin at Demon.

“Lock up.”

He looks at her for a second but doesn’t ask, simply getting up and out, locking up behind him.

Rio waits till that’s done before pulling her to him again, kissing down her neck then into her cleavage as she breathes hard, reaching for his pants.

She feels the back of her legs hit a table and then he pushes her coat off her shoulders and onto it. Their breaths come in spurts, fast and hot as they get each other’s jeans and underwear off and then he’s lifting her up onto the table and spreading her legs wide.

Beth cries out as he enters her, his kiss bruising.

She shouldn’t still feel like this, she shouldn’t. But he feels like heaven inside her, like he can unlock her body in a way no one else can. And yes, she’d tried. God, she’d tried. A stranger at a bar, one night. A divorced dad at the school. But neither someone she’d barely known nor someone she’d actually enjoyed spending time with had brought her anywhere close to where he does – which is funny, because he’s both those things.

“Fuck, mami,” he moans into her ear, and her grip tightens on his biceps as he presses up into her.

She’s still shaking inside, so far gone, and she whimpers loudly when he presses two fingers to her clit.

“Ohhhhh,” she moans, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She tries to meet his thrusts, but she’s so goddamn gone with the way he’s roughly circling his fingers over her.

And then she comes, long and hard, with a sound from the back of her throat that makes him press into her quicker until they’re coming together, orgasms jolting at their bodies until she can’t take it anymore.

Her body keens with the aftershocks until finally, finally, she’s able to pull away from where she’d buried her face into his neck. There’s a deep bite mark there, flaming red, and her eyes widen as she realises she’d done that.

But, feeling him stare at her, she meets his eyes with her chin lifted.

“I hate you.”

He sighs.

“You wanna let me explain?”

“No,” she snaps, pushing at him. “I want you to get off me and then let me out and never touch me again.”

He purses his lips, jaw hardening, but then he does just that.

Beth pulls up her panties even with him still dripping down her thighs, too angry to think straight. She does up her jeans then grabs her coat, relieved to see that he’s finished re-dressing too.

He doesn’t meet her eyes as he goes to unlock the door for her, doesn’t meet them as he holds it open and she steps out.

But the resentment in her chest won’t let her leave without saying anything.

How many times hasn’t she heard him say it in her mind; hasn’t she played it over and over and wondered how she could’ve changed it?

“Goodbye, Rio.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts; theories?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Sorry for the wait - this was supposed to go up on Tuesday night, but I very annoyingly ended up in the ER on Tuesday night 😂 (very small health scare; I'm fine!). But now back to regularly scheduled programming!
> 
> Everything in Italics takes place a week prior, and Grant I have casted as Ryan Phillippe :)

_“Thank you for meeting me.”_

_Grant looks at her thoughtfully, blue eyes deep._

_“Thanks for calling.”_

_She blushes. She’d invited him out for coffee after a parent-teacher night and it had been so nice. She’d genuinely enjoyed his company and he’d been kind and thoughtful. Gentlemanly but not too much._

_Not so much that he’d declined when she’d asked if he wanted to see her place. Not so much that he hadn’t kissed her back as soon as they were through the doorway._

_The sex had been… ok. Enjoyable._

_Better than with Dean, but lacking… something._

_A thrill, maybe._

_And it had hit her like a brick wall: she’s so incredibly messed up._

_And so she hadn’t been able to return his calls. He deserves better than her damage._

_But, now. Now Rio’s back._

_“I'm sorry I didn't return your call. I should've.”_

_“It's fine, really. I wasn't exactly expecting you to.”_

_“You weren't?”_

_Grant pulls a face. “How do I put this?”_

_He seems to think it over for a long moment before apparently grasping onto something._

_“Ok, I was married for a really long time. But before that, I kind of… got around. So I know what it’s like when someone’s thinking about someone else while they’re with you.”_

_Jesus. It had been that obvious?_

_Mortified, Beth decides to be honest. It never seems as hard when she’s with anyone but_ him _._

_“Do you wanna know the truth?”_

_He smiles a little._

_“I would.”_

_She lets out a long breath. The truth._

_“I fell for a guy. A really bad guy. And we broke each other’s hearts. I should’ve seen it coming, but I didn’t,” she shakes her head. “And then he left, and I thought I’d be fine if I could just find a way to replace him.”_

_Stupid, so stupid. Trying to replace something she still doesn’t even understand._

* * *

“Popcorn,” Beth grins, passing him the bowl.

Grant takes it with a smile as she settles on the couch next to him. She grabs the remote and is about to hit play when he speaks.

“Can I be honest with you?”

She blinks.

“Please.”

He watches her for a moment, considering, before pulling a face.

“I don't wanna be 'the good guy'. I know I shouldn’t say it, but… the good guy's boring, everybody knows that. And I’m not boring. I'm sorry about your ex, I really am, but I don't wanna be his lame opposite or whatever.”

Beth swallows hard.

“It’s just that I think… maybe we moved a little fast to begin with, but I—"

“I'm not talking about sex, Beth,” he says gently, a little amused by her panic.

Her breath comes out in a _whoosh_.

“…Then what are you talking about?”

He gestures at the TV.

“It's Friday night and we're watching a movie.”

She looks from it to him, confused.

“What do you want to do?”

He shrugs. “Go dancing?”

“Oh. I'm… not a great dancer,” she winces.

“That's ok, I am. And I don't know that I believe you, anyway.”

They both laugh and, smiling, she leans over to kiss him.

The way he kisses her is different to the way Rio does. It's nice but missing... something. Something all-encompassing and raw, like she's the only oxygen in the room.

But, still, it's nice.

Nice enough that she barely registers the opening of a door behind her until suddenly it slams shut and she jolts away from the kiss, twisting around.

It's him.

Of course it's fucking him.

Just walking into her kitchen like he can.

And he'd seen everything, that's obvious. There's venom in his eyes; ire in the set of his jaw.

He passes his gaze over her once more, deliberate, then steps right back out, door slamming behind him.

Beth swallows awkwardly.

“I'll be right back.”

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, definitely,” she puts on her most Oscar-worthy smile.

She brushes her hand over his in extra assurance before standing and making her way out through the kitchen.

He’s standing underneath the back porch light, skin aglow and drawing her attention to his neck, where a dark purple bruise sits under the wing of his tattoo. It makes her stumble, nearly forget to close the door behind her.

But she does, rights herself, before her eyes go back to the bite mark she’d left behind.

Rio notices her looking, but he doesn’t say anything about it – though he seems more relaxed now than he had inside, hands tucked into his jacket pockets; shoulders less tense.

She takes it as an opportunity to be stroppy.

“You can’t just walk into my house like that.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at her. Lets her shift her weight from foot to foot before coming closer, the light rolling off him like water.

Then he jerks his chin.

“You got a boyfriend now?”

They've not yet discussed this labelling, but she nods.

“Yeah – it's pretty serious.”

She wants his reaction, wants him to be jealous, but there’s nothing in his expression.

“Gotta be, one whole month and all.”

Her cheeks heat up, especially since it’s really only been a week, but she forces herself not to fall into the trap of his mocking.

Pursing her lips, she folds her arms.

“What do you want?”

He pulls a paper from his pocket and passes it to her.

Folding it open, she sees a phone number and a time. 2pm.

“Tomorrow. Keep em on the call as long as possible.”

She blinks.

“That’s it?”

He shrugs. “That’s it.”

“Why?”

“’Cuz you’re gettin paid.”

She huffs. She wishes he could ever just explain anything. And, god, she doesn’t even mean the job.

“Are you back now?” she asks, tone accusational. “Permanently?”

And now something ignites in his eyes, something that hadn’t been there before.

He steps closer.

“You want me to be?”

It feels so familiar.

_You miss me?_

But, god, this can’t end the way that did.

“The way I remember, it doesn’t matter what I want,” she snaps.

It’s supposed to push him away, but it only blooms a soft smile; somehow brings him closer.

And then he’s touching her, really touching her, hand caressing her face then her neck.

No, please.

He can’t kiss her. She won’t be able to stop and she can’t _do this_ now, she can’t.

But when he brings his face closer, caressing his nose over hers, she’s keening for it. The taste of his lips, the press of his body. It’s so close, she can’t bear it.

A breath escapes her lips as a high moan and it’s hungry, desperate.

Shame lights up her cheeks a second before Rio pulls back, eyes hard.

“Get rid of him.”

She blinks, feeling her tongue in her mouth, feeling the weight of her limbs. Coming back to earth.

Grant. He’s still inside and Rio had seen him; had seen them kissing.

And now he wants her for himself.

He twists away, so used to giving her orders and having her just _do them_.

His back straightens when she speaks.

“ _No_.”

She waits, breathless, for him to say something, but then she decides to add to her own refusal.

“He’s not going anywhere.”

 _You did_ , she may as well say.

He doesn’t just get to have her whenever he wants her. That’s over.

The silence seems to sizzle with her defiance, dragging out – until, eventually, he speaks.

“Then kiss your job goodbye.”

A breath drops from her lips, trying to find something to say, but in a few long strides, he’s disappeared.

* * *

Beth re-enters the house with her heart in her throat.

Grant looks up at her with a frown and she wonders how long she’d been gone for. Two minutes? Five?

“That was my boss,” she starts, sheepish.

But Grant raises a brow.

“Your boss comes in through your backdoor after ten without knocking and has a giant throat tattoo?”

Crap.

“It's... a whole thing,” she shrugs one shoulder haplessly, hoping she looks adorable enough to make him let it go. “But he gave me another order and it's massive. I'll have to work through the night if I don't start now.”

He stretches a little then hops off the couch.

“Alright, I'll leave you to it.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he says, grabbing his coat.

“Grant. Thank you.”

Coming over, he lays a kiss in her hair.

“Good luck.”

She starts clearing up the kitchen once he’s gone, throwing away the popcorn; nervous energy darting throughout her body as she imagines Rio walking back in. What will he say?

Will they pick up from where they’d left off or will he just torture her?

What does he _want_ from her?

Worse still – what does she want from him? Why had she been so desperate to get a reaction from him about Grant? Why had his anger at seeing them together made her feel a ping of bliss deep in her chest?

God, she's so messed up.

Beth goes to look out after a few minutes, anxiety growing exponentially in her stomach, and his car is just… there.

What is he doing? Why isn’t he coming back? Is this the torture? Making her wait?

* * *

_She takes a deep breath; closes her eyes for a second._

_"Then I remembered you – how nice you always are, and funny—”_

_“Wait, you think I’m funny? " Grant's brow jumps. "...Oh, I was supposed to get something else from all of that too, wasn’t I?”_

_She bursts into laughter and he grins proudly. He’s so handsome._

_And wholesome. Broad-shouldered and sandy-haired._

_Nothing like_ him. _That’s important._

_“See?” she asks softly, smile slowly slipping from her face. "You_ _make me laugh... And the truth is, all he ever did was make me cry.”_

* * *

Beth packs a few more things away then goes to look out the window again. It’s been at least ten minutes at this point and she’s just about ready to go out and give him a piece of her mind.

But he’s gone.

The car has disappeared, and it snuffs the breath from her lungs for a long few seconds.

_Get rid of him._

She had. Them both.

And she thinks that's just what he wanted.

Looking at everything else she still has to clean up, she can’t breathe. Then she takes one step, another. Puts one foot in front of the other until she’s in her bedroom and then at the end of her bed.

Climbing in fully clothed, she covers every inch of herself in blanket.

And she sobs.

* * *

* * *

**Grant (whose existence Rio is totally super cool and chill about):**

[ ](https://ibb.co/28RJTmk)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a super talky chapter either, but I promise the next one is!

2pm.

Beth swallows then dials.

She’s nervous. But she can do this. She can do this.

“Hello?”

It’s a man, oh god.

Since Rio hadn’t deemed it important to mention who the hell she’s calling, she’d had two plans prepped. For a woman, she’d start doing her best Mary Kay impression, figuring out what she was into then telling her all about some new collection Beth had planned to make up on the fly.

For a man…

“Hi, Mr Anderson?”

“No, that's not—"

“I know you said you were taking a break this month, but I thought I'd just call and offer you another session, on the house.” She puts on her sexiest voice. “I miss the way we talked.”

“S-session?”

“Let me hear you unzip.”

If the sound is there, she misses it. Because suddenly Rio is entering her room through the French doors then shutting them again casually, like he belongs here.

Her heart beats very fast.

“Are—are you still there?” she asks, voice choked.

The last thing in the world she needs for this is an audience – and, worse still, _him_.

“I'm here.”

Swallowing, she presses her eyes closed. This is a job. She's getting paid. And Rio had just threatened firing her last night. She can't afford to mess up.

“I want you to close your eyes and think about my voice and nothing else. Do you still like my voice?”

“Yes.”

What a disgusting asshole, she thinks. Going along with this even though he thinks she's misdialled. But, she supposes her plan wouldn't work if he weren't one.

“Ok, um...”

No no no, not _um_. No professional would ever say _um_. But the thought of Rio in the room hearing this makes her want to die.

It's almost enough to make her change her entire plan, but she doesn't have anything else lined up for a man. Besides, it’s not exactly an easy thing to pivot from – she can’t pretend that was the opener for car insurance.

You can do this, Beth.

She lets out a breath, hoping it sounds hot instead of anxiety-ridden.

“Touch yourself for me... baby.”

There's a little sound on the other end, followed by a hiss, and it makes her want to gag, eyes flying open.

And, oh. God.

Rio had taken a seat on the armchair right opposite her and now he's just watching, eyes trained on her.

There’s something in them. Amusement? Intrigue? She wishes he could say something; could tell her whether she’s crazy for thinking she can pull this off.

But... somehow it helps, anyway. His eyes on her.

Because now it’s not a nameless, faceless creep anymore.

Taking a deep breath, she pretends she's talking to him.

“I wore your favourite perfume – you taste it as you kiss down my neck, then lower, until you’re burying your face in my breasts.”

She can barely breathe remembering him doing exactly that in the warehouse, just over a week ago.

His eyes tell her he’s thinking the same.

But she’s doing a job.

“They're so big and I need your face between them,” she emphasises, voice syrupy. “I need you to pull me close and stay there till you feel like you're going to suffocate in my... tits.”

The word comes stiffly out of her mouth and Rio smirks as she flushes deep.

But looking at him brings back more memories.

“Do you remember when you went down on me?”

Rio bites his lip into his mouth, nods almost imperceptibly. She swallows.

“You pulled down my thong – it was lace, remember? – and I could feel your breath between my thighs.” She remembers it so clearly. “My hips couldn't stop shaking. God, your tongue inside me was incredible.”

The look in Rio’s eyes makes her have to press her legs together. They’re so dark again, but she can't stop looking at him.

All she can do – has to do – is keep speaking.

“And I thought about doing the same for you, getting down on my knees and putting your heavy... _cock_ in my mouth.”

Rio's brow jumps, amused, and her cheeks burn hotter. God, these words are so alien but they come anyway, the way lies always seem to do for her.

“Sucking you off,” she says, making her voice extra breathy. Keeping her eyes on him. “Hollowing my cheeks and... feeling you in my throat.”

Rio shifts in his seat, spreading his legs wider almost subconsciously, and she feels her nipples pebble painfully in her bra.

It distracts her from the groan on the other end of the line, the sounds. All she can think about is her body, Rio's lap. The look in his eyes.

“But I wouldn't let you come,” she continues describing this imaginary situation, “because I want you to do that inside me. I love when it drips down my thighs and all I can think about is you.”

Rio wipes his palms along his pant legs, lip now permanently sucked into his mouth.

And it’s funny, she’s not cringing anymore. She’s talking to him and him alone and the look in his eyes makes her feel powerful; in control, even though she’s nowhere near it.

“And then I get up onto your lap because I'm so wet, I can't take it anymore, I just need you inside me. You're so big and—"

Wrapping her palm around her breast, she moans loudly and it comes out so realistic. Just like when he's touching her.

The slapping sound on the other end of the line is almost too much to mute out now and she's about to say something else when suddenly there's a sound of bewilderment, a shout.

Then an ear-splitting bang and... nothing.

“…Mr Anderson?”

“Put down the phone, Elizabeth,” Rio says, voice strained.

Panicking, she instantly does as he says, and then he nods.

“Call 911. Give em the number.”

She does and when the woman asks what's the emergency, she shakes her head, trying to sound frantic.

“I was just on the line with my friend and I heard this really bad sound, like maybe a gunshot, and then he stopped responding and I'm just really scared something happened to him.”

She gives her the number then her own details and hangs up.

Then she meets Rio's eyes again.

“Is he dead?”

“Should be, if my guy's anythin as good at his job as you.”

She feels absurdly flattered by this considering what _her job_ had comprised.

“You think I could make a living as a phone sex operator?” she teases.

He sniffs in amusement. “A shy one, sure.”

A bit irritated with this, she pointedly shoots a glance at his crotch.

“Seems like it worked for you.”

“You always work for me, mami.”

It cuts off anything else she'd been about to say; any more irritation.

Instead she find herself standing. Walking over to him.

“What if I said… I wanted to get on my knees for you?”

His gaze is curious but cautious.

“I'd say you better not be re-using your material.”

Grabbing a throw cushion, she tosses it down between his feet.

She shouldn't be as wet at the thought of this as she is but, god, what about them has ever gone the way it should?

“I can't stop thinking about you,” she admits under her breath. “In my mouth.”

He curses and her body shakes as he unzips, the sound seeming to ring in her ears; dart down her body. 

Getting down to her knees, she helps him get his jeans and underwear lower and when he springs free, her throat dries.

She forgot. The way he makes her feel. The way she has never wanted any man the way she does him in every way.

* * *

“So today I got a man killed, what did you guys do?”

“WHAT?”

“Yeah,” she rolls her eyes, “apparently we're his distraction squad, now.”

“I mean, we _are_ pretty great at it,” Annie grins.

“How?”

“I needed to keep someone on the phone,” she shrugs. “That's all he told me, with the number. And then... bang.”

“Oh my god.”

“Holy shit, that is some next-level messed up,” Annie whistles.

“How are you so calm about this?”

How _is_ she? She doesn't know. It's like everything in the moment – _him_ – had detracted from what had happened. She doesn't know how he does that.

And then afterwards she'd been too ashamed about her own actions and thinking about Grant to devote any real head space to the gross stranger on the other end of the line.

“I mean... he had to have had it coming, right?” she rationalises.

This takes them all several moments to think over before they shrug.

“...I guess.”

“I mean, he could've been a worse guy than our almighty boss – a rival or something,” Annie shrugs.

“Mafia boss?”

“He could've killed someone's dog. We don't know.”

“Yeah, because _that_ warrants a _gang hit_ ,” Ruby glares at Annie.

“So how'd you do it?” Annie asks, ignoring her. “Keep him on the phone?”

She pulls a face.

“I pretended to be a phone sex operator.”

“What?!”

“Oh my god. When did you get so cool?!”

“What was that like??”

“It was super awkward,” she admits, blushing as they nearly yodel with laughter. “He was like… finishing himself.”

“Oh my god,” Ruby starts gagging.

“It was horrifying,” she nods. “But I kept him on the line.”

“Yeah, you did!” Annie grins.

She sighs guiltily.

“Right up until the shot went off.”

“Hey, at least he went happy,” Annie points out, shrugging.

“But wait, if you were on the phone with him, doesn’t that make you a suspect?”

“ _Ok, SVU_ ,” Annie rolls her eyes.

“I called 911 afterwards and pretended he was just a friend who I got cut off with. They’ll probably question me because I heard the shot, but, I don’t know, I’ll just say I met him at the mall or something one day and I was calling him about… something,” she shrugs.

This, too, has not factored heavily in her thoughts.

All she can think about is him. What she’d done. How stupid it had been. How good it had felt. How dirty she feels now.

“Um, I have to go. Grant’s coming over for dinner.”

Should she tell him? God, she can’t tell him.

But Rio had told Chana.

Fuck. Fuck. How could she have been so stupid? So caught up in the moment? How does he do this to her?

“Ooooh, big date night!”

* * *

She knows, the instant he walks in, that she can’t tell him.

She’s not physically capable.

Which is crazy, isn’t it? Everything that had crossed her lips today and she can’t say this.

Although, how would she even word it? _I gave my boss a blowjob_?

Just the thought of passing her tongue over the words feels so much worse than anything she’d said to that stranger today.

Pressing the door closed behind him, she passes her hands under Grant’s jacket as she kisses him, hard. She can still taste Rio. She needs him out of her mind.

He kisses her back but then chuckles, pushing her away a little.

“Hey to you too.”

“I just… changed my mind about taking things slow.”

His brow jumps up and he looks pleased for a moment before letting out a breath.

“Do I still get dinner? There is food, right?” he teases. “You promised food.”

She laughs. “Yes, there’s food.”

“Amazing; lead the way.”

She takes his hand into hers – which is so unlike her, but she can’t seem to stop; can’t stop trying to make up for her own stupidity – then takes him into the dining room.

“Wow.”

There’s a full spread, everything she makes when she thinks she’ll explode if she doesn’t put her hands to work.

“Have a seat,” she smiles.

“You made all this?”

“I did.”

“For me?”

No. Because of Rio. Everything’s because of him.

“For us,” she nods.

He grins, and as they sit and start dishing up, he starts telling her about his day. To say she’s barely listening would be an exaggeration. She’s thinking about him. Them.

_“Fuck, go slower, ma.”_

_She does, hand still curled around the base of him as she swirls her tongue around. She’s never heard him make the sounds he’s making._

_She feels so incredibly powerful._

“And I just told him no, there’s no way. That’s not my job. Right?”

“He’s always trying to pawn things off on you,” she nods. 

Below the table, she’s clenching.

_His hand in her hair is so tight, nearly painful, but she keeps going._

_She sucks in her cheeks and he moans. She can tell he’s torn between throwing_ _back_ _his head and keeping his eyes on her._

_She wants to pull back, torture him some, but there’s a look in his eyes that she wants to have more of, she’s addicted._

“Anyway. He’s a jerk. How was _your_ day?”

“It was good,” she smiles like she’s not dying inside, guilt eating at her organs. “I finished an order then saw the girls and came home and cooked.”

_He’s close, she knows it._

_So she goes faster, bobbing her head up and down as she pumps her hand at the same rhythm._

He looks at all the food. “It must’ve taken hours. I’m really thankful, Beth.”

She forces a shrug as she cringes on the inside, hating that he’s making it worse.

“It was nothing.”

_“Imma come, Elizabeth.”_

_She hums around him and he groans out an expletive before his body stiffens beneath her and he’s exploding down her throat. She swallows and he moans, hips jerking up._

_It’s breath-taking seeing him like this, at her mercy. A new kind of heaven._

“Next time it’s my treat.”

“You’re going to cook for me?”

“If you want hotdogs and fries,” he raises a brow, and she forces a light laugh. “No. How do you feel about sushi?”

“I love sushi.”

_She wipes her mouth and chin, meeting his eyes._

_And it takes a second but then everything rolls back in. The way he’d left. The way he’d come back without a word._

_Everything he’d done and said just last night._

_“You should go.”_

_And before he can say anything, she presses up from the floor and rushes into the bathroom._

_Body jammed against the door, she waits until she hears the French doors shut behind him._

Grant is talking about this Japanese restaurant he’d discovered and she’s actually trying really hard to pay attention, but then she hears a noise come from her bedroom. 

They should be here alone.

Should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised talking!

She’s so focused on the sound, on what it means, that she misses whatever Grant says.

But whatever it is, it has him running his hand over her thigh as the other goes to her neck and he’s pulling her into a kiss with her eyes open, her lips barely moving.

Is he here?

“Um…” She presses what she hopes is a gentle hand to his chest. “I-I’m sorry, I… have to go to the bathroom.”

His brow arches but then he shrugs.

“Ok.”

She jumps out of her seat and makes a beeline for her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

The lighting is dim, just one bedside lamp on, so it takes her a second to find Rio on the same armchair he’d been in this afternoon, staring back at her with a smirk. It takes her breath away because even though she’d _known_ , she’d also hoped. God, she’d hoped.

But here he is anyway, hopping up and coming toward her.

“Told you ’bout that security system, didn't I?”

Her body’s shaking and she’s not sure if it’s nerves or anger. What if Grant comes looking for her?

What if that’s exactly what Rio wants? There’s a novel of hers on the floor close to where he’d been sitting – he’d clearly dropped it deliberately. What if he draws more attention to himself than he already has?

“What are you doing here?”

His gaze flicks very pointedly down, smirk getting more salacious.

“Came to return the favour.”

She tries not to flush; tries to stand strong.

“I have a boyfriend for that.”

“That right? ’Cuz you seemed a lil pent up.”

It sends her a step back as she swallows.

She hasn't had sex since him, since the warehouse. Her mind and vibrator have been working overtime to recreate it, but it hasn't been enough, especially after this afternoon. She'd felt way too guilty to touch herself, but there's still a warm urge between her legs that lights up at just the words, at the way he flicks his gaze up her body.

“He's here and I need you to go.”

He sniffs out some laughter.

“Naw, darlin. He goes. I stay,” he points at his chest, the gleam from his rings echoing in his eyes.

And before she can say anything, he sits himself down on her bed.

She wants to snap; ask whether he’s just going to leave again the way he had last night, but she can’t afford to turn this into a shouting match right now. Something that, from the look in his eyes, he seems to be very well aware of. He’s counting on exactly how trapped she is.

Shooting him a withering glance, she sweeps back out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

She takes a second, drawing a deep breath, then goes back into the dining room.

“You’re gonna hate me.”

“What’s up?” Grant frowns.

“I… it’s that time of the month,” she tries really hard to blush. “And the cramps just hit.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, god, I’m the sorry one – I can’t believe I have to send you home two nights in a row,” she pulls a face.

Standing, he grabs his jacket.

“Well, I don’t hate you.”

She forces herself to share in his smile.

“You’re too good to me.”

He lays a kiss on her cheek. “Not possible.”

Yes, yes, it is.

But he seems about to leave, and she clears her throat a little.

“I think the sprinklers may have just finished. Do you wanna go out the back?”

The further away she can keep him from Rio, the better.

He glances down at his shoes and pants then agrees gratefully and, after another quick kiss and a wave from the backdoor, he’s finally gone.

She slumps against the doorway for a moment, breathing deep.

It feels unreal that she’d managed that – that she’d successfully kept both men away from each other.

But then the reality of the present sets in and she remembers Rio’s waiting for her. In her bedroom.

They haven’t – _really_ – been in there together since—

_I only go tough on you ’cuz I know you can take it. You know that, right?_

_I can take it._

And it’s when she goes to enter the kitchen again that she comes to an abrupt stop. Remembers the rest, too.

_This ain’t gonna happen again. And Imma start sendin boys – you wanna get a message to me, you tell em._

He’s there.

In the kitchen, now. Has taken a seat like he has nowhere else in the world to be.

And maybe it’s that – maybe it’s Grant; maybe it’s the memories running through her veins – but she’s furious.

She strides forward then entirely past him, heading into the dining room to begin clearing up the dinner. The dinner she was supposed to have with the man she’s supposed to be with.

She starts packing away the glassware they hadn’t used; collecting the silverware and then the napkins. She goes into the kitchen to deposit these in their respective drawers and feels Rio’s eyes on her but she doesn’t meet them, dress swishing as she stomps back into the dining room.

“What, you just gonna ignore me?” he asks from the kitchen, tone a little amused.

“Well, I don't want you to be here, so.”

It's stupid, she should know better. Should know that it'll only make him worse.

But for right now she's too upset.

The second night in a row he'd made her send Grant home. The second time she’d buckled – hadn’t had a choice but to – even though the whole point of him was to keep Rio away from her. To keep her away from Rio.

“Don't you?”

Her eyes shut because that's the kicker, isn't it? She _does_ want him here – the deep, dark sinner inside _wants him here_ – and that means nothing can keep him away.

But after a long few seconds she forces her eyes back open, grabs a few platters and walks them into the kitchen. Tosses them onto the counter.

Rio's eyes traverse the barely touched dinner, hand instantly going to reach for a cookie.

“So this is you, huh? Suck off one guy then have another over for dinner?”

And there it is. The _You won't ignore me_.

She's trying hard to prove him wrong, heading back, but she spins around before she's even made it halfway there.

His expression is completely nonchalant, midway through biting into the cookie. It's a heart – her special sour cream sugar cookies – finished off with perfectly done red icing. The bite breaks it nearly all the way in half.

“I don't remember you complaining at the time.”

It comes out ice cold and she expects something in return, biting, but he just smiles slowly, eyes sparkling like he's replaying it in his mind. It sends a shiver down her spine.

“Naw.”

And with just that he's volleyed the ball back into her court, watching her with his lips parted, tongue lewdly pressed to the roof of his mouth.

He's taunting her; daring her to continue the conversation when they both know what’s going through his mind. 

And no matter what she does, she'll lose – to him, she always does – so she forces herself to keep focus on the topic, on the anger.

“Why were you even there?” she accuses, folding her arms.

“Gotta make sure you're doin your job,” he shrugs, finishing off the rest of the cookie.

“You don't trust me anymore?”

“Like there was a time I did?” he scoffs. Then he rolls his shoulders. “Plus, you seem a lil... distracted.”

“Distracted?”

He watches her for a moment then pops up, dusting his hands off against one another.

“Grant Bloom.”

Oh.

“Fakest motherfuckin name I ever heard, even for a white guy. Born in '79—”

“Is that why you left last night? To run a background check?” she mocks, tone biting.

He doesn't acknowledge this, continuing.

“Divorced. Three kids, only visits on the weekends, which is real fuckin weird—"

“Why are you doing this?”

He’s gotten under her skin now – that easily, always, no matter how hard she tries – and she hates it, but she won’t let him drag someone else into the mess of them.

There’s no doubt in her mind that he knows his address, too; where he works. That he’s working his way up to that, the threat.

But he lifts his chin, smile malicious.

“Funny, never thought to ask you that when you were takin down my pants knowing I had a girl.”

It hits her in the middle of her chest like a grenade, but she swallows thickly; straightens her back. Will not let him see that he’s made his way under the thin veneer of the control she thought she had.

“I get it – you're trying to ruin my relationship because I ruined yours.”

“I twirl my moustache in that imagination of yours?”

And now she's so sick of the game, so sick of _her imagination_ ; living in her head. What is real?

What if she just asks?

“Are you jealous?”

She levels the question at him smoothly, firmly, and he blinks for maybe a moment too long, but there’s no other tell as he takes a step forward.

“You want me to be?”

The truth, Beth, the truth.

“Yes.”

It's not quite a gasp, but the breath he takes is sharp, audible in the empty silence around them.

Then he moves forward a little more, footsteps muted as he tilts his chin.

“Why?”

_I want to know your favourite restaurant and your friends and your son._

_Why?_

_Why?_

_Yeah, why?_

Yes, _why_ is the right question. _Why_ does he always have to make it so goddamn difficult when it doesn’t matter in the end, anyway? He just leaves.

She lets out a breath.

“Please just go.”

Like he will, anyway.

She twists around back into the dining room.

“Naw.”

Her eyes take in the mass of food she’d made, like any of it could mask her mistakes. Like any of it could erase the pit of guilt she feels inside because it’s not just what they’d _done_ – it’s what she wants to do.

It’s that in her mind she’ll always want him, to the point where she’d brought an innocent person into it just to try and force control on herself. Force herself not to feel this. Not to feel him _in her head_ no matter how much she tries to get him to go anywhere.

She curls her hands around the chair in front of her; squeezes till her knuckles turn white.

“You're torturing me again,” she accuses. “Why can't you just let me be? We don't work, we know that. He's nice and he's good to me—"

“And I ain't?”

His voice comes from closer and when she turns, he’s right there. A step away.

“No,” she says, meeting his gaze. “You're not.”

Something shifts in his eyes. He looks… hurt.

“And that's what you want, huh? Nice?”

God. If only she could change what she wanted.

But there’s an answer to that that _is_ the truth so, gesturing at the space between them, she gives it.

“I don't want this.”

His jaw is hard and she forces herself to draw her gaze away, turning back to all the food. She can donate some of it. Pack in lunches for the kids; maybe deliver some to Grant at work tomorrow as an apology.

But _he_ never goes anywhere, he never _goes anywhere_. And, this time, it seems he’s not leaving, either. He only comes closer, forcing her to press against the back of the chair.

“He _taste nice_ too? As good as me, mami?” After a breath: “He tasted you?”

Suddenly her hair is being brushed away from the nape of her neck and it makes her whole body shiver.

“I remember, too,” he whispers.

_Do you remember when you went down on me? You pulled down my thong – it was lace, remember? – and I could feel your breath between my thighs. My hips couldn't stop shaking. God, your tongue inside me was incredible._

She feels his lips and beard over her skin before he presses a kiss to her neck. Gentle violence; soft sin. How does he do it?

“No,” she answers, her voice crisp.

His hand wraps around her breast.

“He touch you the way I touch you?”

And, god, it's so hard to remember. All the reasons she shouldn't let him do this.

But she tries.

“ _You_ left.”

His ministrations come to an abrupt stop.

There's a beat.

“I didn't wanna.”

He hadn't?

“But you did. And then you _wanted_ to come back, _wanted_ to not do so much as call, _wanted_ to go see her.” She spins around, forcing him to back up. “And now you want me because you can't have me.”

His jaw works and, finally – _finally_ – there's anger there, too.

“What, you pissed ’cuz you thought you had the market cornered on that shit?”

“I didn't want you because of her!”

It finally bubbles up and out; boils over, her shout echoing around the house.

It rebounds, comes back; grows thick and viscous around them. For the longest time it's like they're just standing in it.

The truth, Beth, the truth. Look where it gets you.

She wants to move, leave. But where can she go? This is her house, and where wouldn’t he find her?

So instead she just stands, pinned between him, the chair and the aftermath of all her reckless decisions.

His Adam’s apple bobs with the bird inked over it and then, finally, he speaks.

“Naw? So why'd you want me, then?”

His tone is light, cool, even as his eyes tell a different story. He wants an answer, a real one.

But she’s tired, now. Of being the only one to give. Of being the only bearer of the truth.

“I already told you.”

_Because it wasn’t just sex for me, either._

And again there’s something in his eyes, but this time she can’t read it.

“Right.”

He comes closer and she tries to back up but there’s nowhere to go, the chair firm behind her. But, regardless, her body refuses to move. Refuses to get away from him as he lays one hand on her hip and the other shifts open her dress.

Her chest constricts as his fingers dip between her legs.

She can feel him watching her but can't meet his eyes when she parts her thighs, leaning back a little. Because no amount of shame in the world can contend with how helpless she is against him.

He lets out a breath, finger circling over the lace.

“You that wet for me already, momma?”

God.

“I hate you.”

He chuckles on a breath.

“You said that, yeah.”

He makes as if to push her panties away but pauses, waiting, and she nods her breathless assent. But he doesn’t push them away, though, moving to dip his whole hand inside, and her head falls forward onto his shoulder as he slips in one finger then another.

“Oh,” she breathes out as softly as she can manage, hating herself.

Why, god why, can't she stop her body wanting him?

His fingers move deftly in her wet heat, quickly arcing up, and she digs her nails into his skin.

“I can't do this,” she tries thinking straight, biting down on her lip.

“Can't or shouldn't?”

She tries suffocating a whimper, but it just comes out as a strangled moan.

It makes her look up, meet his dark eyes, and then suddenly he's drowning her in a kiss riddled with her fervid whimpers as she grinds down on his hand, not even caring that she can feel his smirk.

Until she pulls away to whisper sharply against his lips.

“My clit, Rio, please.”

He breathes out a _yeah_ before pulling his fingers up and starting an addictive rhythm that has her throwing her neck open.

“Ain't that shy after all, huh, ma?” he murmurs into her ear.

She barely registers it over the sound of his fingers, her breaths. Over the sheer ecstasy rising in her veins.

“Oh my god,” she bites into her lip when it starts. “Don't stop, don't stop.”

He doesn’t, keeping the pressure and the speed until she’s so high, she doesn’t think she can go any further. And then it crests, sends bliss like fireworks under her skin, and rocks through her.

She doesn’t know what she says or does, can’t think through the mist of pleasure, until finally she finds herself pressed even further into his shoulder, jaw slack.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be able to do that to her. Shouldn't be able to have the command of her body that he does.

She shivers as he gently removes his fingers, wiping them on her panties before trying to get a glimpse at her face.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, even though she's a little dizzy.

“Hmm.”

And then he settles his chin on her head – and, oh god. It’s breathtaking in its tenderness, bringing rapid flashbacks of coasters and tea.

For a few seconds she's spellbound; wistful for everything that could’ve been. Everything they could’ve had a chance at if they hadn’t… well, done exactly what they’re doing now.

God.

She forces herself to breathe; to push off and away from him.

“I mean what I said,” she starts, solid.

But it tapers; turns into little more than a whisper.

“I can't do this, Rio. Please just let me go.”

It’s the only way for it to end. Each time one of them holds on, they end up here.

He meets her eyes for a second and before she can even process them, he’s coming all the way close till his nose brushes lightly against hers.

She thinks he’ll kiss her, but he doesn’t, dropping his forehead to hers like he needs her to stay up straight.

And when he lets out a heavy breath that swirls around her collarbones, she thinks maybe she isn't the only one with something to bear.

“You don't think I wish I fuckin could?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooo incredibly sorry - I can't actually believe how disgustingly long it has been. My writing took a real knock because of canon and for whatever reason, this story became the biggest casualty. 
> 
> Related: This story was supposed to have a few more chapters, but I've decided to close it here. I've lost the joy/inspiration in writing it, which I hope I'll find again someday, hopefully in hiatus. In the meanwhile, I've removed the cliffhanger that was supposed to be at the end of the chapter (don't say I'm never merciful 😝); the rest of it remains as is. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and supporting! You guys have been truly awesome, I appreciate the love so much ❤️ ❤️

It spreads out and curls around her; sucks the air from her lungs.

_I can’t think straight when I’m wit’ you._

_You’re in my fuckin head!_

And, now, another – that he can’t let her go, no matter how much he wishes he could.

It’s overwhelming, it’s terrifying.

It’s exhilarating.

But she has to know.

“Why did you leave last night?”

A moment passes as he swallows, nothing else in the world but them and this.

“Saw red.”

There’s a whisper of space between their lips, threatening to cease each time they speak.

“Because you were jealous?”

“Yeah.”

Her chest constricts, eyes leaving his lips to meet his gaze.

“We can't keep doing this.”

The moment stretches longer this time.

She needs him. Needs him to see that the cycle they’re in is so broken, she’s so tired. So tired of having him and not having him; of being his and not being his. One right after the other; both at the same time. She can’t stand it anymore; the dizzy, the teetering.

She needs him to help her end it.

But he looks at her; _looks_ at her.

“ _I_ can be good to you.”

“Can you?” she returns.

And now he hesitates; lets out a breath.

“I can try.”

“You left.”

“I messed up.”

The truth. God, finally.

She sucks in a breath and it makes his eyes flick down to her lips.

And it’s so familiar; so familiar.

“You shouldn't kiss me again.”

“I didn't see her.”

“What?”

And now finally he puts space between them, just a few steps that feel like a sudden ocean.

“Chana,” he says, eyes trained on her, “I didn't see her.”

Her frown is deep and he rolls his shoulders with a sigh.

“I came back ’cuz my kid was sick. Chana's the nurse at his school, called to check in on him, and his ma mentioned I was on my way back.”

Oh.

Oh, god.

“W-why didn't you just tell me that?”

“I didn't know what the fuck you were talkin about. Then I figured it out.” A pause. Then: “Plus, you told me not to, 'member?”

She folds her arms.

“Since when do you listen to me?”

The smug look falls from his face. Then he takes one small step closer.

“I'm tryin.”

It takes her breath away.

She blinks a few times and he watches, smiling softly as he moves another step closer.

“It's a really asshole move to date the school nurse,” she points out, deliberately stroppy.

“Well the principal's this burly dude with a gross moustache, so.”

And she’s doing her best to still appear unaffected, but she can’t help breaking into a smile at that.

“The moustache is the problem?”

“Yeah, it's a dealbreaker, man.”

They grin at each other before she shakes her head to get rid of the smile.

“Is Marcus ok?”

“He's good.”

He’s almost as close now as he’d been and he tips his head closer to hers, foreheads nearly meeting again as his breath brushes over her lips.

“I thought about you every single day, Elizabeth.”

She draws a shaky breath. “I want to believe that.”

She does. God, does she.

“Lemme help.”

He inches forward, as if waiting for her to rebuff him, but she doesn’t. He smiles a little and then his lips slant over hers, warm, and she pulls him closer to her instantly, wanting more; wanting their bodies pressed together. It makes him moan and she’s busy parting her legs when he grabs hold of her and twists her away, driving his body against hers until her back is hitting a wall and then he’s pressed all the way against her.

She murmurs a _yes_ into the kiss and he hums as she presses up onto her toes.

The kiss is intense but slow, her fingers feeling over his crisp shirt; his sinewy body beneath it. It makes her want more, but the way he’s kissing her is just – god. It’s soft and patient; firm and hot. She can’t stop it, feels she’ll suffocate without his lips and tongue.

He slips his hand under her dress to get a firm grasp on her ass, fingers digging in, and she moans.

Her hands go to his beard, body sparking with need. But he’s still so intent on just _kissing_ her and so she reaches for his free hand to bring it to her breast, his fingers instantly wrapping around. _Yes_.

He’s breathing hard when he pulls away, eyes full of dark astonishment as he looks down at her.

“You know you drive me fuckin crazy, right?” he accuses. “Every time I close my eyes, I see your mouth on me.”

A light blush rises to her cheeks.

“It was good?”

“So damn good.”

She bites at her lip, not knowing what to say to that. Not knowing how to ask for what she wants.

Then she remembers.

_Ain't that shy after all, huh, ma?_

“I want to get on your lap again,” she admits, just barely a whisper.

His lips settle into a firm line, something dark unfurling in his eyes, and then he’s tugging her, grip tight on her wrist as he pulls her into her bedroom.

He lets her go, and she has half the buttons on her dress undone before he’s even twisted around to look at her.

Running his tongue over his bottom lip, he watches. Follows as it pools to the floor before his gaze bounces back up to her body.

She kicks off her shoes then advances.

He doesn’t move, waiting for her.

And her hands reach for his pants but he touches her first, fingers brushing over skin. Her arm, her collarbone, her stomach.

It’s deliberate but gentle, feathering off electrical shorts, and she wants him so much, she thinks she’ll explode with it.

He helps her with his belt and pants then kicks off everything, and she feels heat pool anew between her legs.

She wants to push him down but he kisses her first, wraps her up in his mouth again as she tries to keep a straight head, tries to move him back.

Her moans are loud, only half-stifled by the kiss, by the time he hits the bed.

She starts undoing the buttons on his shirt and as his collar falls open, she sucks in a breath.

She’d forgotten.

Her fingers brush over the dark bruise she'd left on his neck, hidden just beneath the bird’s wing.

He pulls a deeply displeased face.

“Yeah, ain't exactly the best look.”

Which brings her too much glee not to cause taunting.

“What, are the boys teasing you?”

He rolls his eyes and, smiling, she bends down to kiss over the bruise.

His breaths are heavy as she undoes the rest of his buttons, wondering how many bruises she can leave on him. How she can mark him as permanently hers as the bird inked into his skin.

But then he’s yanking his shirt off, reaching for her panties, the last of his patience shredded. He pulls them down and she kicks them off before climbing onto his lap as he goes for her bra. He kisses over her chest when it’s off, but she can’t wait any longer.

Forcing his head up, she licks over the seam of his lips.

“I can take it.”

His eyes meet hers for a blazing second and then he’s helping her sink down onto him.

He groans as she calls out his name, high-pitched as she tips forward.

“Oh my god.”

His fingers sink into her skin.

“Fuck, momma.”

She lifts her hips and starts moving, keeping him inside her because he feels too good. But then he lifts her further up, drops her back on him, and she yells out a whimper, mouth dropping open with a stream of them as he does it again and again and she falls away into it, making her hips go faster.

They’re so loud, louder than their bodies, and she can barely stand it.

“Rio, god, I’m gonna come.”

And when he lifts her this time, he throws her down on the bed beside him instead, coming to settle over her.

She moans a _yes_ then digs in her nails into his neck as he pushes back inside her.

His mouth crashes against hers and the kiss is dirty, a mix of tongues around guttural growls; breathy moans.

The entire bed shakes with their bodies and she has to pull away from the kiss as she feels the start; the rise of the crash. Her mouth rounds and Rio sucks her lip into his mouth before biting, hard. She shrieks in surprise and then it becomes a broken yell of pleasure, body jerking around his.

He lashes a nipple into his mouth and Beth reaches down to press against her clit. It spirals her faster, harder, as his thrusts become more erratic and stars dot over her vision right as he bottoms out into her.

Her eyes are closed when he collapses onto her, spent, and for a while she just rides out the aftershocks, body trembling.

He rolls off her, and for a while they just lie there.

Then she clears her throat.

“I think I might believe you.”

He bursts into laughter.

* * *

Beth does up the knot on her nightgown as she exits the bathroom.

She stutters, stops, when she sees him reaching for his jeans.

“D-do you have to leave?”

He looks up in surprise, something crossing his features.

Then he shakes his head.

“Naw.”

She steps closer.

“Then don’t.”

He relinquishes his jeans and the belt clanks, but she doesn’t follow the noise, too caught on his gaze.

She keeps moving forward till her legs slot between his, his hands coming up to her body.

She takes a long breath.

“It doesn’t feel real.”

“And what’s that?”

She shrugs. “This not hurting anymore.”

He meets her eyes and they’re serious for a moment, before he smirks.

“You ain’t gonna miss the thrill?”

She smiles.

“No.”

“Hmm.”

For a while they just stare at each other and then, suddenly, he lifts her and tosses her onto the bed. She shrieks but giggles as he comes to lie down next to her.

“So, ’bout all that food…”

“You don’t get to have any,” she rolls her eyes.

He draws his features into an expression of supreme affront.

“Why not?”

“Because I made it for another man!”

“You wore those panties for him, too; didn’t stop me from takin em off, did it?”

“Oh my god,” she glares, cheeks boiling hot.

Rio chuckles.

“Oh, now you all shy again, huh?”

Before she can reply, he kisses her, deep.

His tongue is warm in her mouth and she brings him closer with a hand in his neck.

But then suddenly it’s over, as quickly as it had started.

And she wants to chase him, but he holds a hand between them as if specifically to prevent it.

“So when you gonna tell him?”

Beth blinks back, breathless enough from the kiss, never mind this loaded question presented so casually.

But she looks at him, reads his eyes, and remembers: it’s a roadmap, not a destination.

He’s not asking _when_ , he’s asking _if._

“So that’s what you want?” she asks, tone stiff. “For me to break up with him? For you?”

The words sit in the air for a loaded moment until he realises she’s teasing and he laughs, rolling onto his back.

“A’ight, I deserved that.”

She smiles too, but it quickly sombers.

“Me too,” she admits.

He looks back; meets her eyes. She takes a breath.

“I didn’t know how to say it, but… I should’ve just said yes. I-I did want you be with me instead.”

He watches her for so long that she wants to look away, the weight of his gaze crawling underneath her skin and settling there in a way that’s too seeing; too knowing.

But then he speaks, tone light.

“Then yeah, momma.”

Beth hesitates, unsure, but he’s retracted his hand, and the look in his eyes tells her to do it.

Pressing forward, she kisses him.

It’s just a brush of the lips, tender, but it feels heavy.

His hand comes up into the nape of her neck when she draws away, keeping her close. It makes her feel like she’s in his arms; an intimacy she didn’t know they were capable of.

“I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

He parts his lips but it’s more of a breath of acknowledgement than a response. Like he doesn’t care about him anymore. _They_ are all that matters, now. All that has ever mattered, really. Except…

“There’s one thing I still don’t know,” she frowns.

“Yeah? What?”

“How did you know when Grant has visitation with his kids?”

He laughs a little, eyes secretive.

“When you’re me, you gotta know everythin, darlin.”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed that he isn't willing to play less close to his chest even with something

this small.

But she decides to take the moment; to take him down a notch.

Moving forward just a little more, she lets him look at her lips before catching his gaze.

“Do you know what I’m thinking?”

His tongue darts out between his lips, eyes suddenly serious.

“I never do.”

It would push her back in surprise if he weren’t still holding her in place, and she swallows.

It makes her remember sitting in his car trying to figure out how to say anything she should’ve said.

_She said she could move past it, but only if it was just sex._

_W-why are you telling me this?_

_’Cuz I’m sick of bein a liar._

_God, how did we get here?_

But.

“You’re not exactly an open book yourself.”

That day, yes. But then it had been too late.

No – what about the tea? What about the way he’d told her that he liked her in his bed? How he’d called her interesting after saying she wasn’t a good person?

She thinks maybe he’s remembering that, too.

He swallows, letting his hand move from her neck to her shoulder, brushing over her collarbone. It sends a shiver down that she tries not to let show.

But he catches it, she knows he does.

It’s in his voice when he speaks; in the gleam of his eyes.

“So let’s do some sharin, then.”

Oh, god.

Really, she’s brought it on herself. But the truth is – god, always the truth – that she doesn’t mind it all that much. Doesn’t mind it all that much when it means he has to reveal something, too.

It’s more even than things have ever been between them.

“I’m thinking that I’m scared to go to sleep.”

His brows jump up.

“Why?”

She nibbles on her lip for a second before letting it out in a tiny voice, cheeks burning.

“Because I don’t know how to sleep with you.”

This seems to take him a second to process, eyes darting over her face, before he rolls onto his back and guffaws.

And yes, maybe it’s kind of dumb. But the thing is, they’ve had a lot of sex. And not once have they actually spent the night together.

Do they cuddle? Does she wake him in the morning? Make them breakfast? What’s the protocol?

There’s a glare set on her face by the time he finally finishes laughing, and it makes him break into another smile when he sees it.

Turning back onto his side, he brings two fingers to her chin.

“Hmm.” His smile goes softer, thumb brushing over her lower lip. “I’m thinkin I got no clue how I ever left you.”

It takes her breath away for the longest moment – until, finally, she manages to find a question she should’ve asked sooner, long before they made it to bed. Maybe one day she'll be able to control the fervour; he'll stop driving her out of her rational mind. Maybe.

“Are you going to leave again?”

Something rises, light and free, in her chest when he shakes his head.

“Everythin I want, I got right here.” She sucks in a breath and it makes him smirk very smugly. “Still hate me?”

“Yes,” she huffs. “…But just the normal amount now.”

He looks very pleased, nodding.

“That’s good.”

“Y-yeah,” she breathes, suddenly distracted.

He’d smoothly undone the knot on her nightgown and now he’s slipping his hand inside.

“What are you doing?”

“Hmm, mami, I figure I gotta show you how to sleep with me.”


End file.
